


We Did It! (What Now?)

by klaiea



Series: Tender Hands and Soft Hearts [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: During Canon, M/M, agnes about to come thru for these babies, shipping them all the way in 17th century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaiea/pseuds/klaiea
Summary: Adam has saved them all and Crowley is thinking about getting married (or at least giving some chocolate and flowers)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Tender Hands and Soft Hearts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942291
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	We Did It! (What Now?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [funkyferretdoodles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkyferretdoodles/gifts).



> who was kind enough on my first fic for the bravery of a second

Satan faded away, and in his place, a red car pulled up.

> A portly, middle-aged man stepped out, a little annoyed, but mostly concerned. For all he knew, his son was in danger.
> 
> “Adam? Adam?”

Aziraphale leaned in towards Crowley, watching the man. “That’s not _really_ his father.”

> “Oh for heaven’s sake, where is he”

Crowley allowed himself to feel a bit of hope. “It is. It is now. And it always was.” A shy little smile peeked out. “He did it.” And now his little smile became a genuine grin of relief and perhaps, love.

> “Adam!” Arthur Young comes a bit closer, and now he’s more puzzled than anything. “Would anyone here care to explain to me what _exactly is going on?_ ” Adam was silent but written on his face was an accomplishment miserably trying to be disguised as innocence.

Crowley trusted Adam. Everything was going to be alright. For now, at least.

* * *

After that shock-inducing event that was Armageddon't, everyone off headed in their separate directions [1].

The adults headed off in pairs. Sergeant Shadwell and his... harlot. Book Girl and her boyfriend. _Crowley and Aziraphale._ Thinking of them as a _pair_ sent a little demonic thrill through his chest (but he’d be blessed before admitting _that_ ).

Crowley put his arm around Aziraphale and after a moment, Aziraphale reciprocated. Another thrill. They leaned against each other for support, both just a wee bit stunned. Satan himself showed up, and sounding suspiciously like Mr. Holmes from BBC’s Sherlock. And then Adam, just- just- just what? Told him off [2]?

They took a meandering walk that led them nowhere and everywhere. They didn’t talk much but not for the first time, Crowley felt Love. For his angel. His brave, anxious, beautiful, angelic Angel. He had known for centuries. He had never done anything _brave_ about it though. Drunk teasing _didn't count_. Double entendres with enough plausible deniability not to get (too) hurt _didn’t count_. Crowley was a coward and there was nothing he did more than _want_ and _hope_.

* * *

Now it was night and it found Crowley and Aziraphale sitting on a bench, waiting for the bus. Perhaps, if he were alone, the night would be spooky. Good, fun, and spooky. But now his Angel was here with him. So instead, he was happy. When was the last time he’d been truly happy? Ever?

“It’s all worked out for the best, though. Just imagine how awful it might have been if we’d been at all competent.” Aziraphale snapped him out of his musing.

Deep breath in. “Point taken. What’s that” He raised an eyebrow at a scrap of paper Aziraphale was fiddling with.

“It fell out of Agnes Nutter’s book.”

Crowley read the Olde English. “‘For soon enough, you will be playing with fire.’? So this is the final one of Agnes’ prophecies?”

“As far as I know.”

“And Adam? Human again?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

The clattering and clanking of a vehicle approached. It was a rather speedy mail truck.

“Angel…” Crowley mused. “What if the Almighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning?”

Aziraphale considered. “Could have. I wouldn’t put it past her.” He took a drink straight from a wine bottle (which had just ceased to be a slightly vinegary Beaujolais, and had become a quite acceptable, but rather surprised, Chateau Lafitte 1875[3]).

“Suppose I should get the bus to drop me off at the bookshop.”

“It burned down. Remember?” Crowley said this as tenderly as he could. “You could stay at my place. If you’d like…” He trailed off, flustered.

The angel paused. “I don’t. I don’t think my side would like that…”

“You don’t have a side. Neither of us do.” A deep breath in. “We’re on our own side. Like Agnes said, we’re going to have to choose our faces wisely.”

* * *

What else did She have planned? For Crowley and Aziraphale. Specifically. Crowley knew Aziraphale liked flowers. And chocolates. Flowers _and_ chocolates? For now, Crowley would just have him over for the night. Play it cool depending on how it went. Confess his love after all was said and done. He could be patient. He had been for 6,000 damn years.

* * *

Footnotes

1Not that any of them had bothered to exchange but they all found their numbers in each other’s phones roughly 2 days later.[return to text]

2"Begone, Rot" were Adam's exact words[return to text]

3Yes, I took that as a direct quote from the book, too good to pass up[return to text]


End file.
